


Despite Everything, It's Still You.

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Game Spoilers, Gen, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:14:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5694334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Posted here from my Tumblr writing blog, so this is not theft. Don't worry if you've seen this on tumblr before. It's fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Despite Everything, It's Still You.

_Despite everything, it’s still you._

       There is a tiny bruise on your left cheek. You spot it in the mirror in that hallway and rub at it a bit, trying to get it to come off. It doesn’t, and you frown. You reach into your pocket and pull out a little Band-Aid, already used. It’s only a little sticky now, but you stick it to your face, smoothing it over your skin with slow motions. It stays, but the corner of the band-aid curls up a bit. You smile sweetly, a little smile that nobody will ever see yet it’s the type that people like to see on kids. It’s goofy, calming. You are heading straight for a slaughter, it’s either Asgore or you. Why aren’t you scared? I don’t understand.

       Your hands start to tremble. Ahaha, you are scared, then. Yet you give that little smile. None of your friends are around to see it. You aren’t reassuring anyone. You are alone. Maybe you’re reassuring yourself? Your tiny hands are holding the worn dagger, the little shear that you found in a box in a room inside the familiar house. Two keys hung off of your phone, the one that the Good Doctor, the Lying Doctor, gave to you. The phone you use to call all of your little friends. The one that dear “mother” will not answer when you call. She’s so selfish, isn’t she? The little keys clink together as you move down the hall.

       We look alike. Only just a little bit though. Enough to fool a flower almost unintentionally, although intentions hardly matter. We would be so much more alike if you would have just swung that little toy knife around. Sought them out. Killed them all. If you would have decided “This time I think I’ll try to be mean.” But that was the accident you tried to fix. The old lady died, her dusty blood on your hands and you were horrified. But you continued on, to where we are now, where you realized that you cannot progress. I wonder, truly, how much of you is really kind. How much do you want to end this little game with every possible outcome? How long will it take you to gain that curiosity? Although, I don’t really care all that much. Just curious. You’ll get there, probably, to the same level of curiosity, if it’s in your nature. But then again, we are so very similar it must be in your nature.

       You don’t skip. You don’t run. You walk with thoughtful steps. Closer to the end of the hall. Closer to the end of this little game we play. My dear friend is following you. He is so unsubtle, but you don’t notice. Instead you listen to Our story. It sounds so pretty, so emotional when these little monsters tell it. Much prettier than how it actually happened. Asriel was always so weak, so nervous.

       You die to the king. You go back. You die again. You are upset, but you’ve done this before, haven’t you? You attack after a few rounds of begging. It sounds so disingenuous when you’ve done it multiple times. Your knife swings grow less reluctant. How heart felt and how emotional this little battle is! I feel like gagging, but I don’t have a way to do so. You love to torture me over and over in an endless cycle with how stupid and boring you are. You don’t kill the king. It would have been better if you did. It would have been a little improvement considering how weak he is. No. You continue on, calling for help as the little flower beats you down again and again. He hurt you. I want you to strike him down but you don’t.

       It’s almost agonizing, just watching you hum to the odd faced fish woman, seeing you pat the ball of slime as it gives a few guttural barks. I am annoyed. Friendly friends being friends and solving things the way friends solve them. I don’t care. I don’t care. I want my own revenge, my own justice executed on the world outside. You fight my only friend. You save him. Everything is how it should be.

       But it isn’t, is it? You are antsy. In your little bed on the surface, surrounded by your little friends. There is a little part of you that is curious. You are curious.

       You wake up in a little bed of golden flowers at the bottom of a hole. “Just once” you think. “Just to the end, then I’ll start again. I’ll do it properly after this one time.” I smile and shiver in anticipation. Despite everything you’ve been through, all of the friends and connections you’ve made, this is the real you, isn’t it? Doesn’t matter. It’s the real you now. 


End file.
